


don't read the last page

by cupcakeb



Series: holiday fills [5]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Friends to Lovers, In a way, New Year's Eve, This is a nobody dies AU btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28117812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: Careless words make careful girls want to kiss you less.
Relationships: Carla Rosón Caleruega/Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich
Series: holiday fills [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035375
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60





	don't read the last page

**Author's Note:**

> this dying fandom isn't gonna keep me from writing the Carla/Lu we all deserve.

They’re both drunk when it happens for the first time.  
  
Lu is sixteen, in love with Guzmán and afraid of what next year holds. If anything outside of teenage relationships documented in vague social media posts matter in life, she hasn’t come across them.  
  
She’s got a best friend, and a boyfriend, and other friends, too, but Carla will always come first. Guzmán isn’t exactly the gentleman she wants him to be half the time, still rolls his eyes when she refers to this thing between them as a relationship, but it is one. Deep down she’s sure he knows it, too.  
  
Perhaps that’s why this turn of events is a little concerning.  
  
On January 1st, she wakes up to strands of blonde hair in her face, a naked body pressed intimately against her own. The distinct scent of Carla’s perfume fills her nostrils on a deep inhale, and that definitely doesn’t help make this situation any better.  
  
She’d be lying if she said she doesn’t remember how they got here. She remembers the drinking, then the enthusiastic hug that turned into… something else. She remembers every second of it.  
  
The blonde currently clinging to her makes a sound in her sleep, pulling Lu closer still, and maybe they can just not talk about this. Maybe the mess they made can stay their little secret, like the hundreds of others they’ve shared over the years.  
  
Still. The scent of her lingers on her favorite pillow.  
  
———

New Year’s Eve at seventeen is all it’s cracked up to be and more — they make sure of that. The Champagne is flowing, hors d'oeuvre sit on trays left by the wayside, long forgotten in everyone’s haste to get sufficiently wasted before the clock strikes midnight, and really, this is all Lu wanted this party to be.  
  
It’s a fucking blast.  
  
Carla is clinging to her arm, her nails digging into the hardened muscle of Lu’s biceps like she’s afraid to let go. They don’t know anyone at this party because they weren’t technically invited. It was Carla’s idea to sneak out of her parents’ chalet in whatever Swiss ski resort this is to crash a nearby New Year’s bash held at a famed aprés ski spot.  
  
Now they’re here, and most people around them are at least five years older than them, by the looks of things. Three glasses of champagne into the night Lu thinks that’s amusing, not daunting. They belong; they don’t just act like they do.  
  
Carla begs to differ.  
  
“Come on, let’s just go back,” she says, looking around the room full of strangers like they’re zoo animals. Carla does this sometimes, randomly gets shy about talking to new people like she wasn’t raised to small talk with the best of them. “Please?”  
  
Lu rolls her eyes. It’s barely eleven — they haven’t even been here an hour.  
  
“No way! Why don’t we try something new instead.”

Carla’s eyes narrow and she rolls her eyes at Lu, a stoic expression on her face. “I’m not doing drugs.”

That makes her giggle. As if she would ever suggest they do that — she’s not Valerio. No, she thought of something a little more… invigorating.

Looking at the stereotypes of wealthy twenty-somethings they’re surrounded by, Lu grins at Carla. “Well, we could always pretend to be different people and see if these dumbasses buy it.”  
  
Carla lets out this breathy laugh, and for a second Lu is distracted by how gorgeous she looks right now, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and her lips pressed together in an amused pout that makes her want to trace them with her thumb, then bite them raw.  
  
“So we pretend to be what, married?”  
  
She knows the blonde is joking, but Lu purses her lips and nods anyway. That’s not exactly what she’s going for here, but sure, why not. “We’re not old enough to be married. Let’s just go with dating.”  
  
Maybe this is what their tenth-grade drama teacher meant when he claimed improv skills were key to living a good life.  
  
A trio of average looking, fairly tall Swiss men stop by to make chit chat, and Lu winks at Carla — lying to strangers is fun. The men barely speak English, and neither of them girls speaks German so they settle on French. Then the three of them keep talking about how they’re _investors_ and made their money in wine, and even though French is Carla’s third language, she still effortlessly exposes them as knowing absolutely nothing about winemaking. Lu watches the exchange with interest, giggling quietly whenever Carla catches her eye.  
  
It doesn’t bother her that they all seem enamored with Carla; she knows the scooping neckline of Carla’s dress might make the blonde look like the easier target. It’s definitely not making her feel any less desirable — Lu knows she’s attractive, she just doesn’t feel like flirting with random strangers tonight.  
  
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t go to parties like this alone,” one of the guys finally declares, and Lu stopped paying attention to this conversation five minutes ago when Carla grabbed her hand, but that makes her listen up again. Such a typical fucking stupid male ego thing to say; as if women are just helpless creatures looking for some tall Swiss asshole with a crooked nose and a Rolex to rescue them.  
  
A smug grin makes its way onto Carla’s lips, and then she’s squeezing Lu’s hand for emphasis. “I’m not alone.”  
  
The night gets better with every glass of champagne.  
  
They keep the lie up, stick with the same group of guys who are either fucking blind or just in denial about their chances. At one point Carla literally calls Lu _baby_ and pecks her lips when she agrees to get her a drink, and all these fools do in response is leer. Men are disgusting.  
  
Guzmán is celebrating with Polo in Madrid, and Lu giggles when she gets a text with a video of the two of them excitedly jumping up and down in anticipation of the countdown that’s just a few minutes away. Carla puts an arm around her shoulder and leans in close, smiling down at Lu’s phone.  
  
“Our boys,” she says wistfully, drunk giddiness creeping in, and Lu is pretty sure the way she’s rubbing her shoulder is meant to be calming. Really, it’s just making her want to get her alone. “Let’s not tell them about this.”  
  
Carla must be well on her way to drunk. There’s no other reason she’d dare allude to the fact that they’ve been touching all night, some of the touches more appropriate than others.

Lu likes drunk, uninhibited Carla the most, especially when she’s feeling similarly buzzed and careless.  
  
At midnight, Carla kisses her slow and deep and dirty in front of this room full of strangers, and Lu is too busy kissing her back to listen to the catcalls from their pathetic male audience.   
  
And even if Lu is tempted, she doesn’t ask what brought this on because careless words get you in trouble.  
  
Careless words make careful girls want to kiss you less.  
  
They won’t tell anyone about this.  
  
———  
  
They raid Teodoro’s well-stocked liquor cabinet and find an unbelievably expensive bottle of tequila. It’s so expensive, Lu has qualms about opening it, which Carla shuts down immediately, her hand going out to grab the bottle.  
  
“He won’t notice. Besides, tonight’s a special occasion.”  
  
She probably means New Year’s, but all Lu can think about is how this is the first time she’s seen Carla since last summer, since they both took off for different countries and universities and lives.  
  
In the end, Carla insists. They each have three or four or five glasses of the stuff. (You don’t _shoot_ expensive tequila, that would be a waste.)

Lu is sitting on a soft rug on the floor, spread out in front of the fireplace, watching Carla as the blonde studies her mostly empty glass of amber-colored liquor.

Falling forward a little as she reaches for the bottle, Carla giggles. “I’m so glad we didn’t go to that party.”

Guzmán — who Lu finally broke up with right before graduation last summer — is having a New Year’s Eve party tonight, and the two of them both elected not to go. They haven’t seen each other since August, and that seemed like a good enough excuse not to show up.

“Polo was pissed,” Carla goes on, elaborating on something Lu didn’t ask about, her words resembling a stumble of syllables the tequila must’ve rearranged. “Sometimes I don’t think he likes me very much anymore.”

That’s just absurd. Lu scoffs, rolling her eyes and hits Carla’s thigh, bared by the PJ shorts she’s wearing. If she thinks Polo doesn’t like her, she’s delusional. “Please. He adores you.” Lu says, adjusting the headband on her head.

Carla laces her fingers through Lu’s and holds them there, where they’re pressed against her bare thigh. She’s right; if they’re gonna have a quiet night in, the least they can do is cuddle a little. Her head bumps Carla’s shoulder, then settles in her lap.

“Worshipping and liking someone are two different things.”

Maybe they are. Lu has never really considered differentiating between the two.

She doesn’t know where Carla’s parents are and she doesn’t ask, but when Carla brushes a strand of hair from Lu’s forehead and presses a kiss to it, she decides she doesn’t care.

For once she’s not quite drunk yet when things start to happen, and she uses that state of mind to her advantage when she sits up and straddles Carla, kissing her like a question she doesn’t need an answer to.

The answer is obvious.

Time seems to slow down in the way it always does on this day of the year. She’s sure for the next 364, she’ll contemplate the parameters of it all — how five minutes of Carla’s hands on her always feel like an hour and a second at once. Never-ending and yet already over before it began.  
  
This never feels real. It feels fleeting and fragile and inevitable, but not real, no. Never real, because it can’t be.

For all the gentleness of the night, this part is rough. Teeth clash and bruises are left and neither of them ever takes a breather to reflect.  
  
Reflecting is for people with time to waste and they’ve only got tonight.  
  
———

Carla flies to New York five days after Christmas, after she calls her crying from the airport and says, “I need you,” which nearly makes Lu’s heart stop beating. Then she adds, “We broke up,” like that might justify the hysterical crying, and Lu instantly feels a tingling sense of relief flood her system; she feels a little awful about that.

She’d feel more awful if Carla had been _happy_ with Polo.

She’s thought about this a lot — about having Carla here, showing her around, giving her more than just glimpses at her New York self. The new and improved Lu who doesn’t self sabotage and tries to be less of a people pleaser is happy. These days she isn’t ashamed of sometimes kissing girls at clubs when she should be kissing guys.

And then there’s _that_ — she’s thought about that a lot, too. About why and how and when the absolute unit of _Carla and Polo_ might finally cease to exist. Right now, Carla sounds upset, but chances are she’s just in shock. It’ll pass.

(What’s gonna happen when it passes?)

When the blonde steps out of a yellow cab not even twelve hours later, Lu savors the few seconds she’s got to check her out unabashedly before Carla notices her lurking in the shadows.

As they embrace, she asks, “How was your flight?” in lieu of asking her the dozens of other questions she really wants answers to.

Carla doesn’t respond, just hugs her a little tighter still. “I’m tired, can we just go to bed?”

It’s almost midnight and already morning in Spain, so Carla must be exhausted. Lu nods, then takes the blonde’s suitcase in one hand and her wrist in the other.  
  
For once it’s a good thing Nadia tends to be in bed by ten. No awkward small talk to be had today.

In the morning, Carla is still sleeping soundly when Lu finally feels rested enough to get up for some coffee. She runs into Nadia in the kitchen, looking like she wants in on the gossip. Well.

“Hiding from your hookup?”

Lu rolls her eyes. She’s hardly hiding, and they didn’t even hook up.

“Who is it?” She motions to the pair of black ankle boots by the door. “She’s got good taste in shoes.”  
  
Nadia is always a little too perceptive so she crosses her arms in front of her chest and shrugs defiantly.

“It’s just Carla,” she says like it isn’t weird that Carla is suddenly in their New York apartment. Then she pours herself some coffee and ignores the questioning glances Nadia keeps throwing her way.

It’s never been _just_ Carla, and maybe Nadia knows it, too.

———

Carla finally wakes up around lunchtime, and Lu feels a little awkward when the blonde catches her staring at her. She was just sitting on her side of the bed, doing some light reading for class, when the gentle way Carla’s eyelids fluttered in her sleep caught her eye; she’s been not-so-subtly watching her ever since.

“Hey,” she croaks out, her throat appropriately dry after over twelve hours of sleep. When Lu doesn’t respond right away, she pokes her thigh. Lu keeps her eyes focused on Carla’s smile, instead of staring at the skin bared where her tank top has slipped. “So this is what waking up in another country after a nervous breakdown is like.”

That finally makes her giggle and all the tension and awkwardness of the whole exchange instantly evaporates. She hands Carla the bottle of water she keeps on her nightstand and eyes her warily as she chugs most of it.  
  
Carla wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and her smile is soft when she looks up at Lu again.

“Are you okay?”

The smile on Carla’s lips fades for a moment, but then it’s back and Lu feels far too relieved about that. She hates seeing Carla upset.

“We both knew it wasn’t gonna last,” Carla says, reaching for Lu’s arm to pull her closer but the brunette doesn’t budge. This is the important part — she wants to see the look in Carla’s eyes when she talks about it. “But I got angry anyway. You know how I am.”

Lu does. Carla doesn’t ever let herself be angry at people until it’s too late; until she snaps and says things she doesn’t mean, things she has no control over. Now she’s the one scooting closer to Carla, burying her face against her chest. Carla is still warm with sleep, the duvet pooling around her hip, and Lu sighs quietly when the blonde puts an arm around her.

“I know I said we shouldn’t tell them.” Her voice is brimming with mischief and the words nearly make Lu flinch. “I just couldn’t resist.”

That takes her a few seconds to process. And just like that, she’s laughing, pulling herself up to look at her. Carla rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too, brushing a hand over Lu’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” Lu chokes out, now laughing so hard she’s pretty sure there are tears running down her cheek. “You’re telling me when Polo broke up with you, your immediate response was to tell him you fucked me?”

Carla gasps at the profanity, but then she’s laughing right along with her, hugging her to her chest.

“No,” Carla corrects. “I said I’ve _been_ fucking you.”

They’re not usually blunt about these things, definitely not when they’re sober, and Lu wonders if this really is a nervous breakdown manifesting. It’s still too funny to take seriously — she allows herself to laugh some more.

“It was kind of... freeing. We were shouting at each other and the second I said that, he just stared at me and started laughing.”

They spend New Year’s Eve the way they always do.  
  
It doesn’t take long for either of them to conveniently forget again.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
